Sense Of Mind
by The KJ Universe
Summary: Set during Ostagar, a oneshot between Alistair and my Warden, Evelyn Cousland. Please R&R. Might add more one.


**A SNOT-RIDDEN HANDKERCHIEF - A SURPRISING GIFT**

Ostagar was colder than Highever ever was, with a brisk wind that nipped at Evelyn's exposed face as she hurried across the camp, her faithful mabari following close behind. The sky was overcast, large foreboding clouds that promised rain. There were many sounds coming from all around, soldiers preparing for the nearing battle, dogs howling as they slowly submitted to the Taint, and, as she neared King Cailan's group, people arguing.

"It is foolish, Cailan, to rely on Orlesians, of all people, for help."

Attempting to stay as quiet and invisible as possible, Evelyn crept up behind Alistair – the slightly older Warden was watching the argument with a raised eyebrow – and positioned herself so it seemed that she'd been there for a while, but was simply out of sight.

"Late start?" Alistair whispered, winking conspiratorially.

"Nightmares, actually." She shrugged, wincing as Loghain's voice raised.

"You damn well know how hard Maric and I fought to keep those bastards out, and now you want to hand Fereldan back over to them?"

Cailan scoffed, gold armour dimly shining. "I'm not 'handing over' anything to anyone, Loghain, the Grey Warden reinforces that are arriving aren't going to attack us. Allies are allies, no matter _where_ they come from."

Evelyn's half-yawn half-sigh escaped her lips before she could rein it in, and a light flush spread across her pale cheeks when Alistair's grin returned. His blue-green eyes lingered though, travelling down to where he could see the pendant he'd gifted her earlier resting above her leather armour, catching the eye of any Warden. He looked away, glad she'd seen it. _It's nice of her, to remember Davith and Jory. She's pretty when she blushes, too._ Surprised by his astray thoughts – he'd known her for perhaps _two_ days, when did she become 'pretty' – he barely heard his own name being mentioned by Cailan.

"Uh, wait, what?" Alistair shrunk slightly when everyone at the War Gathering's eyes flickered towards him, and almost scowled when Evelyn's snort reached his ears.

"Eloquent," She whispered.

"I said," Cailan repeated, already looking away. "Alistair and the new recruit shall light the beacon. The best should be sent for such an important task, after all."

"I already have men stationed there, Cailan. There's no need for these _Warden's_ to get involved, surely they're more needed in the battle itself?"

"What if the Tower is attacked by darkspawn? Your men won't be able to hold, at least not until the beacon needs lighting."

Alistair bristled, there was no way he wasn't fighting, but before he could speak, Evelyn had stepped forward. "Sire, if there's no danger, surely I can go alone. The more Grey Warden's fighting, the better."

Cailan looked up at her, blue-green eyes causing her to swallow a gasp. "No, it's best if you both go."

"Of course." Evelyn did a half-step backwards, before speaking again. "May I take my mabari with m- us, or is he to be sent off with the Ash Warrior's?" Such is what had happened to a lot of the mabari's some soldiers had brought with them, and Alistair could understand her question. The news of the Cousland's death had spread quickly after her arrival, and that dog was probably the only family she had left.

"Hmm..." Cailan looked up to the leader of the Ash Warrior's, who was stood fairly close to one of the attending mages. "Are you short of dogs?"

"Er, no, sire. We've around two hundred mabari's, which is more than the last battle."

"Very well," Cailan's gaze flickered over to the mabari in question, who was sat next to Alistair. The dog was half-asleep, drooling slightly, and Alistair took some relish in stepping away – he had no desire to get mabari drool, one of the more resistant to cleaning liquids in Thedas, on his just-polished Warden boots. "The ma- what is his name, Lady Cousland?"

Evelyn turned a bright red colour, and Alistair was suddenly very interested in the dribbling dog. "Oh, um, your majesty, it's -" She seemed incapable of speech, and Alistair's grin was growing by the second. "Well, uh, his name is – may I say something first, your majesty?"

Cailan, as curious as Alistair was, nodded.

"When I named him – which was almost _five_ years ago – I never really expected to be surrounded by General Loghain, the King of Fereldan, the Circle of Magi, and two Grey Warden's."

"Noted."

"His name is Barkspawn." She said it in a rush, and if Alistair hadn't have been stood right next to her, he would have sworn he'd misheard her. But no, he'd heard her perfectly, as had Cailan by the sly grin they were currently sharing. Loghain simply seemed annoyed from the diversion from his 'brilliant' and 'unbreakable' plan, and the Ash Warrior's were silently chuckling. Duncan seemed impassive to anyone who didn't know him, but Alistair could see the hint of a smile on his face. The mages were... well, _mages_.

Evelyn glared at his quiet snigger, though they softened at his smile, before she looked over to Cailan, and frowned. Her eyebrows furrowed, her lips puckered, _and, Maker, she's pretty when she does that. _Alistair almost slapped himself.

"Barkspawn -" Alistair was most definitely _not_ mishearing the hidden mirth in Cailan's voice. "Will accompany the Warden's to the Tower. What then?"

But Evelyn wasn't listening, instead she continually looked between him and Cailan, as though she were looking for something, and constantly not finding it.

"Once you draw the darkspawn into your line, send the signal, and the _Warden's_," Loghain sneered the word, "Will light the fire, calling my men to flank them."

Duncan made a murmur of agreement. "Your majesty, you should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing."

Both Alistair and Evelyn shuddered.

"Well, there haven't been any reports of dragons in the Wilds," Loghain said, and Alistair rolled his eyes. Even if there were dragons in the Wilds, no one would be able to report them. Barely any of the scouting parties had returned, and those that had made it back to the camp were either half-dead, actually dead but just severely Tainted and had to be killed immediately, or hadn't gone too far into to begin with.

"Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?" Cailan smiled, carefree. "Either way, this battle shall be _glorious_! For all of Fereldan!"

"Indeed," Loghain said, turning away to pick up more scrolls.

Duncan shooed them away not long after, telling them to look around camp for a while. The Magi and Ash Warrior's left too, so whatever they were discussing was only for Duncan and the King's ears, plus Loghain, of course.

They hadn't been walking long, when Alistair's attention was captured by the mabari. "Y'know, it's not a bad name. Kinda suits him, too."

"What?" Evelyn said, her bright honey-coloured eyes wide with confusion. "What suits who?"

"Oh, your mabari. His name, it suits him. 'Barkspawn'. It's, uh..."

"Ridiculous." Evelyn groaned, hiding her face in her palms. "Ugh, I can't believe that happened! I just told the King of Fereldan that my dog's name is _Barkspawn_!"

"It could be worse," Alistair said, barely containing his grin. She looked so adorable, he found it difficult to look away. "For example, you could have named him after Cailan. _That_ would have been undeniably worse."

"By, like, a smidgen. Hell, even Duncan found it funny, didn't he?" They were reaching the main encampment now, and songs could be heard, being sung by frightened soldiers, most of whom have probably never lifted a sword before in their life. "Still," Evelyn smiled up at him. "It raised their spirits."

"Well, what about me? I need my spirits lifting too." He teased, bumping his shoulder into hers as she laughed.

"Oh, believe me, Alistair, if I ever feel the need to lift _anything_ of yours, you'll be the first to know."

His face blushed a bright shade of beetroot as she giggled. "Wha- no, no, no. That is... so not what I meant. I mean, that is – uh, I mean to say, I didn't – ah, damn it."

Evelyn patted his arm. "Relax, I was joking."

"Oh. Oh! Joking – you were joking. Oh..." He was still bright red.

"Besides," She said, walking up to their fire. "You're cute when you blush."

He got cuter, sitting mutely at the fireside as Evelyn rubbed Barkspawn's belly. The mabari hadn't even waited for her to sit down, instead flopping over so his stomach – and other, less fluffy areas – were prostate to the world.

The other Warden's – around six burly men, two mages, an elf, and a tall, looming fellow holding an imposing staff – were scattered around, apart from the man with the staff (Okay, the _other_ kind of staff), who was gloomily glaring at a book. A closer inspection revealed it to be _The Rose Of Orlais_, and Alistair was fairly certain he'd seen Duncan reading the same book earlier in the week.

"Can't believe we're not gonna fight," Evelyn eventually said, voice quiet against the howling wind. "Feels weird, doesn't it? Not preparing. Properly, I mean."

"I guess. Duncan will probably lecture us the same, though."

There was silence around the camp for a few minutes, only the continual sound of the flickering flames to fill the gap. "I just realised something." Evelyn said suddenly, sitting bolt right. "It _is_ Thursday, isn't it?"

"Yes... why?"

"It's my birthday." She let out a surprisingly bitter laugh, and abandoned her petting of Barkspawn. "Hip hip hooray."

Alistair suddenly felt awkward; what did he do? Comfort her? Start singing 'Happy Nameday'? What? "Er, how old are you?"

"Twenty-one." Her hair glistened in the fire, light bouncing off the copper curls. "We- _I_ was going to have this big party. Didn't want one, I hate crowds – especially if they're stuffed full of obnoxious twa-" She coughed, a dainty sound that shocked Alistair. He was expecting something less... girly. "But that's not going to happen now."

"Are you kidding? You've got two huge armies, a battle that decides the fate of a kingdom, and _me_. What more could a girl want for her twenty-first?" Alistair gave her a comforting smile, and silently passed over his handkerchief when he noticed the tears quietly dripping down her cheeks. _She was pretty when she cried._ He really needed to stop noticing whenever she looked pretty, but it was proving to be difficult; due to the fact that she simply looked stunning whenever. _Not helping._ "So, are you hungry?"

Evelyn didn't answer for a moment, before frowning as she handed the handkerchief back. "Surprisingly, yes."

"Come on then, I know just where to take you." He stood, offering a hand to help her. A warm, fuzzy feeling settled in his stomach when she accepted. "The _only_ place to get food if you're a Warden in this camp. Plus, he's got the best cheese."

"Cheese, huh?" She contemplated for a moment. "I'll go," His heart soared, and he cursed it's betrayal. "If-"

His heart plummeted, and he cursed it again. "If what?"

She grinned. "If you'll let go of my hand."

"What? Oh!" Alistair dropped it like a genlock, his blush blooming once more. "I, uh, didn't realise-"

"I figured." Evelyn beamed up at him for a few moments, before jerking with her head. "So, what kind of cheese does this guy sell?"

"The best." He led the way, though Evelyn was always one step behind. Barkspawn had ran off, Maker knows where, but Evelyn didn't appear to be too worried, so neither was Alistair. They passed many tents and fires, much like their own, and all sat at said fires seemed to quieten when the two Warden's passed, their eyes trailing after them. Alistair was used to this – Grey Warden's in Ferelden were still rare, after all, and most people still harboured distrust for them. "Y'know, it appears to me that I still haven't asked how you joined the Warden's."

She was silent for a few moments. "Duncan was visiting Highever when... uh, Arl Howe attacked. He rescued my father, and my mother and I fought out way to him, after..." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, Duncan said that he couldn't leave Highever without a recruit – he was supposed to be testing Ser Gilmore, instead – and my father offered me."

"So... you were conscripted? Like me?"

"I wouldn't say that, no. I wanted to join the Warden's – who would pass the chance up – but... it doesn't feel like... oh, I don't know."

"It doesn't feel like you chose to be here, even though you did." Alistair finished, slowing his pace so they were walking side by side, arms grazing every so often. "I understand."

"You... do?" Evelyn's voice sounded almost childlike, then.

"Sure. When Duncan rescued me from the Chantry, it didn't feel like I had the choice to leave. I mean, I wanted to, I really really did, but my only choices were stay in the Chantry and become a _Templar_, or become a Warden. It wasn't a choice, just which one would I rather prefer, because neither were necessarily bad." Alistair's gaze flittered towards her. "I don't suppose it'd be wholly similar to yours."

"It is, actually. If I'd have said no to Duncan, or if he'd have never arrived at Highever, I'd be dead. So, whilst it _was_ a choice, it wasn't really much of one. Not that I'm complaining, of course. There's no higher honour, as my father used to say." Her honey-coloured eyes twinkled with sadness. "But I don't really think he was speaking about his only daughter being a Warden."

"Did you want to be a Warden?" Alistair found himself longing for the answer.

"Yes. I mean, the Grey Warden's? There's a reason my mabari's called Barkspawn, and not just because I lost a bet with Fergus."

They had reached the food tent for the Warden's in camp, it was bright blue and larger than most tents, but it was the smell that caught their attention. "Ah, smell that. Good ol' bacon and eggs."

"D'you think they have beans?" Evelyn pushed her way into the tent, stomach groaning loudly. She looked up to him, embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm not normally this hungry."

"It's the Taint," Alistair told her. "Don't worry, it happens to everyone."

"Really? Even Duncan?"

"Especially Duncan." He let her sit down first at the long wooden table, ever the gentleman, as Gretel – the Warden's cook who took no fuss – pushed food at them. Alistair wasted no time in devouring as much as possible in as little time as possible, after thanking Gretel.

It took Evelyn longer, at first she ate delicately, small minuscule bites that barely fit onto the spears of her fork because they were so small. Then, she put her cutlery down, rolled her eyes, and began savagely eating a chicken's leg. She tore at the skin, and seemingly inhaled it before dropping a clean bone to the table.

Alistair pushed his own chicken legs away, untouched. He preferred beef, anyway. "I guess you _were_ hungry."

"Mhm-hm." Was Evelyn's smothered reply, mouth full of his abandoned chicken. "Dis is so good."

"When was the last time you actually had a proper meal?" He ate at a slower rate, actually tasting his food before ingesting it.

"Uhm, I gesh it wash-" She swallowed, pulling a pitcher of orange juice towards her. "Before the attack. A week ago?" Shrugging, Evelyn downed the pitcher. "Ah, that's nice."

_How can she look so pretty when she's stuffing her face? How?_ "I'm surprised Duncan didn't force you to have his trademark split pea soup."

Evelyn's face split out into a grin. "He tried, but it was too badly burnt for human consumption."

"How can you burn soup? It's seventy-percent water." Alistair frowned as she shrugged again.

"Don't ask me, Barkie had to eat it, didn't you Barkie?!" The mabari yelped happily from his position under the table, and Gretel let out a scream.

"Who let that filthy creature into my tent?" Grabbing a broom, the old cook began to shoo the dog away.

"He isn't a filthy creature, he's a pure-blooded mabari war hound!" Evelyn stood, anger oozing from her every pore. "_And_ he's the noble companion of a Grey Warden!"

"I don't care if he's the Maker himself, he's not being in my tent! This is a clean place, where food is prepared! I shan't have it!"

Alistair placed himself between the two women – _and wouldn't that sentence cause his old Templar friends to hoot and howl at him, as well as a few current Grey Warden ones_ – and raised his hands, complacently. "How about we take some food, and leave?"

"I don't care, just get that mutt out of here."

Evelyn didn't even speak, instead loading up a tray with food - mostly more chicken legs – before leaving with a brief nod to Alistair.

He found her later, sat high on the ramparts next to a pile of cold food, tear tracks on her cheeks. Sighing, he eased down next to her, offering his handkerchief once more.

"Thanks," She said, accepting it to dry her face. "I didn't mean to cry, I didn't want to really, but... it just reminded me of – of-" She hiccuped, and blew her nose into the handkerchief.

"Home..." Alistair finished for her, softly. Rubbing one hand up and down her back, he waited until her sobs had subsided before speaking. "Your old cook didn't like Barkspawn?"

"No – she – she did, she was just – harsh. Nan looked after me when I – when I was born," She blew her nose again. "And, after I didn't need a nanny any more, she stayed on as a cook."

"Did she, uh," Maker, why did he have to be the one to comfort her? He was rubbish at comforting people! "Survive?"

Evelyn shook her head. "No one at Highever survived that night. Not my parents, not Ser Gilmore, no one." She seemed to be finished crying, and offered the handkerchief back to him. "Thanks,"

"Er, you can keep it." Alistair said, trying for a polite smile as he tried not to look too long at the snot-coated piece of fabric.

"Thanks," She tucked it down her sleeve, before rubbing her eyes. "Maker, some Warden I am. I've only been a Grey Warden for a few hours, and I've spent most of that time _crying_. I'm such a girl."

"Oh, Maker forbid that. You've got more chest hair than I do!" Alistair's heart sped up a bit at the mischievous grin she gave him.

"You have a lot of experience with my chest, do you?"

_Oh, Maker..._ "No, that's – I don't, I mean – your chest is your chest. I haven't seen it." Because that sentence made sense. "I mean, I _have_ seen it, but with armour on, not without, so whether or not is hairy, only you'll know."

Evelyn's smile was something only the Maker could have made, equal parts shy, caring, and happy. There was a dimple on her left cheek, close to a beauty spot, and Alistair was struck by the sudden need to kiss both the dimple, and the spot. The Taint was clearly affecting him. "Thanks, though, really. Most people would have just told me to grieve later. Duncan did, actually, but we were still escaping Highever at that point, so it was understandable. Still..."

"It's nothing," He said, shrugging her praise off. His 'illness' was most likely caused by the Taint inside him sensing the Taint inside her, and, as such, he should leave. "Warden's stick together, always."

"Hmm... 'always'... I'll hold you to that." She stood, offering her hand. It reminded Alistair of earlier, by Grey Warden camp. "You're okay, for a Templar with an obsession with cheese."

"Technically I was never an actual Templar, Duncan recruited me before I took my final vows."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed down at him. "Fine then; an _almost_ Templar with an obsession with cheese. Better?"

"Much." He stood, accepting her help, and was so busy with trying not to instantly fall over himself because neither of them were wearing gloves anymore, and her hand felt so small, yet soft, that he didn't notice her do a double-take when she felt a jolt of energy travel from his hand to hers. He didn't notice the way she watched him, the entire walk back to camp, or the way she held herself around him – indifferent, yet caring all the same – but he did hear her murmer his name later that night when they were both sleeping, a pleasant smile on her face, and a similar one blooming on his own.

Maybe that handkerchief wasn't the only thing he'd gifted her; state of mind seemed to have been a good gift too.


End file.
